


Until Next Time

by ChaiAndChill



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Abuse, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Crylo Ren, Cunnilingus, Degradation, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, If You're Looking for Fluff You've Come to the Wrong Trashcan, Is This Enough Warning?, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Major character death - Freeform, Minor Poe Dameron/Finn, Minor Poe Dameron/Finn/You, Minor Poe Dameron/You, Mostly Angst with Attempts at Porn, Nothing But Endless Sorrow, Nothing Dubious About This Non-con, Past Rape/Non-con, Psychological Trauma, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, This is seriously sad, Used More For Humiliation than Anything, Vaginal Sex, Watersports... kind of, just warning you, lots of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-02 22:44:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8686204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaiAndChill/pseuds/ChaiAndChill
Summary: Kylo Ren is a dangerous man. Except he doesn't exist, according to the police. Never mind the bruises on your hips and the soreness between your legs. Their hands are tied without a witness or some sort of physical evidence. Your only option is to relocate and hide. His last words to you were, "Til next time." You had hoped there wouldn't be a next time. You were wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fuckingkyloren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckingkyloren/gifts).



> This was inspired by a series of posts by fuckingkyloren on tumblr. You can find them on their blog. Please be aware of the tags, this is not meant to be a happy story. 
> 
>  
> 
> I do not own the Star Wars franchise, unfortunately.

     You walk into your relatively new apartment after a long day at your relatively new job, trying not to resent the way your life is panning out.

     “Oh, hey Y/N! You’re back early.“

     You turn toward the chipper baritone and sigh in exasperation.

     “What is it this time?"

     Matt smiles at you seemingly amicably as he crosses the threshold of your bedroom door.

     "The AC’s out."

     "It’s the middle of fucking winter.” You bite out, opting not to remind him that your AC isn’t in your bedroom.

     Something about the blonde has unnerved you since the day he’d showed up at your door to explain his position as the complex’s new maintenance man.

     “I’m just trying to help you, no need to be a bitch.” He growls, his smile falling as he crosses the room to tower over you.

     You notice yourself trembling in response to his aggression, his height and demeanor far too familiar. They even _smell_ the same.

 _‘He’s not here. He can’t find you. He’s not here.’_ you chant mentally, trying to calm your fraying nerves.

     “R-right, I’m sorry. It’s just been a long day at work.” You say, taking a step back to try to put some distance between you two.

     “If you were mine, you’d never have to work a day in your life.” Matt responds, his gaze almost manic in its earnestness as he takes yet another step towards you.

     “That’s nice of you, really. A-are you done fixing what you needed to fix? Or can you finish it tomorrow? I really just want to go to bed.”

     You glance anxiously at the door to your apartment, hoping he gets the hint and leaves.

     “I can run a bath for you before I go.” The blonde giant offers with that same eerie, overly friendly smile he’d offered when you’d caught him coming out of your bedroom.

     “N-no, I’m fine. Just go, please.” You say more meekly than you would have almost a year ago, before Kylo had happened to you.

     Matt’s eyes, so similar to your former stalker’s, grow stormy and you find yourself shrinking beneath the weight of his gaze.

     “Why do you have to be so stubborn? Huh? I’m being a good guy here and you think you can just dismiss me like that?” He spits out, getting in your face.

     You stare wide eyed up at him. The same prominent nose, same full pink lips as Kylo’s grace your sight.  His beauty marks even look identical. You start to think you can see some raven hair peeking from under Matt’s blonde.

_‘That’s crazy, you’re going crazy. Just calm down and get him out of here.’_

     You take a deep breath and push your hair behind your ear.

     “I appreciate it, really,” you force a smile, “I just really want to be alone.”

     Matt gives you a considering look before backing off and smiling back at you.

     “Fine. I get it. I’ll be back tomorrow to finish.” He says, walking past you to the door.

     He pauses for a moment to look back at you.

     “'Til next time, Sweetheart.”

     Your breath stutters painfully in your lungs at his words as you slide to the floor, exhausted from the exchange.

     You really should complain to your landlord.

 

* * *

 

 

     It turns out that your landlord is a land _lady_. You had only dealt with her granddaughter when you’d signed your rental agreement and had wrongly assumed that she was a man.

     It wasn’t entirely your fault. After all, what kind of edgy and ambiguously gendered name was _Maz Kanata_? It sounded like something you would have come up with in one of your admittedly trashy sci-fi fanfictions.

     Maz’s apartment is littered with knick knacks and mismatched floral print furniture and wallpaper. Old concert posters, mostly swing artists, line the horrible rose print walls and a birdcage sits cater-corner from your seat at her coffee table. It smells vaguely of patchouli and something else that burns your nose with each inhalation.

     Despite any misgivings you might have about your landlady, she seems patient as you begin to recant your reasons for moving into her apartments and your issues with the new maintenance man. You omit the more uncomfortable details about your experience with Kylo. You still can’t talk about your rape without hyperventilating.

     More shameful is your body’s reaction to what Kylo had done to you. He had used you, had taken away your personhood with his vicious treatment of you. Yet, some sick part of you had been _aroused_ by it, if only a little.

     Memories of him pinning you to the wall with his immense strength and throwing you to the floor as he manipulated your body so easily, as if you weren’t even fighting, plague you at night. Your nightmares are so vivid that you can feel his violent rutting against you, his fat cock threatening to split you in twain. When you awake, chest heaving and covered in a sheen of sweat, you check for bruises from where you could swear you’d felt Kylo gripping your hips. Your heart recoils in self disgust as you find your panties damp with traitorous arousal every time.

     “I can’t help you with that man.” Maz intones gravely, interrupting your train of thought.

     You stare at her tiny wizened features in disbelief. Her glasses magnify the size of her eyes to an almost comical extent and her wrinkled, orangey skin reminds you of a dried apricot. Surely with her obvious age, she would have seen enough of the world to know that Matt’s behaviour was at the very least problematic.

     “What do you mean you can’t help me? He’s your employee! I can’t live with someone like him constantly dropping in and harassing me like that!” You shout, nearly hysterical.

     Maz holds up a frail hand to silence you, her stern features somehow growing even more severe.

     “I can’t help you because there is no maintenance man here.”

     Everything seems to freeze in that moment. Your heart, your lungs, your brain all painfully still as you realize that Matt is not who he said he was.

     “I’ve never had a maintenance man, my granddaughter is plenty capable of fixing most anything around here. I thought all of my residents knew to consult her if they had any issues.” Maz explains further, “And for the record, I don’t know anyone named Matt.”

     Your head feels as if it’s going to explode as your mind races to cope with the truth about Matt’s identity. It’s not difficult to deduce. There is only one person that has ever had such a singular obsession for you.

     ‘ **_Kylo_ ** ’

     “What I can do for you, is provide a recommendation for your new apartment once you decide on it and have your locks changed in the mean time. Given the circumstances, I’ll let you break your rental agreement without penalty and refund your deposit.” she says crisply, almost dismissive in tone.

     “W-What? That’s _it_?” you sputter in disbelief.

     “Look, I am truly sorry for what has and continues to happen to you but it would be unwise of you to stay here. It is obvious that this Kylo person has followed you and seeing that there is no physical evidence of any crime aside from a few pairs of missing underwear, getting the police involved again would only hurt your credibility. You don’t even know his real name and no one has ever seen you with him. Much as I believe your story, I’m just a crazy old lady.”

     Maz reaches across the coffee table to grip your hand in her own, her expression softening into something almost maternal.

     “For your own safety, you should go stay with a friend for a couple days. I’ll keep an eye out and notify the police if anyone sees him skulking around here.”

 _‘I don’t have any friends anymore.’_ You want to say, but holding back your hysterical tears takes most of your effort.

     After Kylo had broken into your house and raped you, you’d dropped everything in hopes to get away from him. You’d even been vague and cut ties to your friends and family in fear that Kylo would somehow use them to find you.

     It seems a wasted effort now that he’s found you and you’re all alone.

     The rest of your time in your landlady’s home is a blur as you struggle with your crippling anxiety over the situation. You were trapped. There’s nowhere for you to go and no one you can rely on.

     You stare blankly at your computer monitor, the apartment listings on the screen barely registering through the static in your mind.  You’re not sure how many hours have passed but you can’t bring yourself to go out for fear of running into Kylo and yet you know that he will show up eventually. Your cellphone sits beside you, the number of the officer that had handled your case ready to be dialed with the touch of your finger.

     A loud knock at the door startles you from your reverie, causing you to knock your phone off your desk with a clatter.

     “Y/N! I’m here to finish fixing the AC!” ‘Matt’ calls from the other side of the door.

     You bite your lip to stifle the scream trying to claw its way out of your throat.

 _‘Maybe if I stay quiet he’ll leave.’_ You lie to yourself amidst your internal shrieking of _‘oh god’_ and _‘he’s here’_.

     You almost don’t hear his next words over the chaos in your head.

     “Y/N? I know you’re in there, I’m coming in.”

     You hastily slide from your chair, clamoring for your phone. The sound of him fumbling with the door locks sends horror streaking through your veins. As quickly and quietly as you can, you crawl to the closet in your room, sliding the door shut just as ‘Matt’ enters your home.

     “I take it that you’ve finally recognized me.” you hear ‘Matt’ say from your living room.

     You press the call button on your phone, one hand clasped over your mouth to try to calm your labored breathing. The faint ringing from your phone sounds thunderous in your terrified ears.

     “I’m glad, I hate this fucking wig.”

     The voice he uses now is deeper, more natural than the one he had used under the guise of Matt and you hear his footsteps getting closer.

     “You can stop hiding now, I don’t bite… much.” he laughs darkly.

     “I hope you realize now that there is nowhere you can hide that I will not find you.”

     His steps stop right outside the closet and the dial tone on your phone just keeps ringing.  

 _‘Pleasepleasepleaseplease’_ you pray to whatever divine power is listening.

     “Chief Hux speaking.”

     The door slides open and Kylo smirks down at you, blonde wig in hand.

  
     “Hello there Sweetheart, I’ve missed you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full blown rape is happening here, folks. If you're easily triggered, please avoid this story. It only gets worse (or better depending on who you ask).
> 
> Still don't own Star Wars. If I did, there'd be a lot more porn and a lot less plot.

     Your phone slips from your hand with a resounding clack. Kylo’s gaze is so hungry it threatens to swallow you whole, his hulking frame even more intimidating from your spot on the closet floor.

     “What do we have here?” he murmurs, eyes narrowing at the screen of your upturned phone.

     He crouches down to pick it up, ending the call as he weaves his long, thick fingers through your hair tenderly.

     “Now why would you have the Chief of police’s number? Hmm?” Kylo asks you, his grip on your hair tightening painfully.

     “It couldn’t be that you tried to bring our little...domestic dispute to the attention of the authorities, could it?”

     You’re shaking violently now, chest heaving in an effort to breathe enough to calm yourself. It’s not enough. There will never be enough air in your lungs to be anything more than a quivering mass of nerves in his presence.

     “Answer me.” He growls, jerking your head back roughly.

     “N-n-no.” You whimper pitifully as tears begin to stream down your face.

     At the sight of your tears, Kylo begins to shush you, nuzzling your cheek with his own. You know in your head that you should be kicking, screaming, fighting him with all the strength in your comparatively tiny frame but your entire body is leaden with fear.

     “Now, now sweetheart, there’s no room for lies and secrets in this relationship. Right?” he whispers silkily in your ear.

     You nod your head frantically, tears and mucus running down your pinched face.

     Kylo pulls away from you and cups your face in his massive palms.

     “Oh, you’re so ugly when you cry. It’s cute.”

     Kylo presses his plush, pink lips to your cheeks, his tongue flicking out to lick up the salty fluid flowing freely from your eyes.

     A sob escapes your throat and to your humiliation, you feel a warmth spreading in the crotch of your jeans. The pungent scent of urine fills the small closet and you shrink back when Kylo presses his hand against your clothed vagina.         

     “You’re so scared, you’ve wet yourself,” he notes with something close to disappointment, “I suppose I was a little overzealous last time but you needed to know your place.”

     “My p-place?” you stammer between your hiccuping breaths.

     “You thought you could disrespect me, thought you could _ignore_ me.” Kylo growls, his hand travelling from your cheek to wrap around your neck as he exerts a painful amount of pressure on your clit with his other hand.

     “You had to be punished. You still have to be punished.”

     A chill skitters down your spine at his words. You begin to struggle when his grip on your throat tightens, arms and legs flailing vainly to try to dislodge him from you. Kylo stands, pulling you up with him and you see an opportunity. You aim your knee for his groin and nearly make contact before he twists his pelvis out of the way, causing you to hit him in the hip.

     “Bitch! Why do you have to make everything so _difficult_?! Huh?!” the behemoth roars, lifting you by your neck and swivelling on his heel to slam you on to the hardwood of your bedroom floor.

     You lie dazed beneath the weight of his grasp, the wind knocked out of you from the impact.The shock of being choke slammed ceases your helpless crying, a small blessing in your living nightmare.

     “I don’t like being this way, sweetheart but you just won’t submit to me.” Kylo says after a long moment, letting you go to run a hand through his disheveled wavy raven hair.

     His shirt pulls taut over his shoulders and his bicep flexes with that small movement and you hate yourself for finding him attractive in this moment.

     “Maybe I’ve gone about this the wrong way.” he muses, catching your unintentionally lingering glance.

     Every muscle in your body tenses in anxiety as Kylo’s deep brown eyes stare at you calculatingly. Whatever he is planning, you are certain it isn’t going to end well for you.

     “Perhaps I’ve been using the wrong incentives,” he says, lifting your body in his arms as though you weigh nothing.

     He dumps you onto your bed, a sinister smile spreading slowly across his face. You nervously shuffle back against your headboard. Anything to put as much distance between you two.

     “Don’t worry, Sweetheart, I won’t hurt you. In fact, I’ll show you just how good I can make you feel if you behave.”

     You are dumbfounded. Did he really think he could make you feel good about what was happening?

     Before you can think to fight, he’s pulling your wrists up into a set of restraints you don’t remember having. At your alarmed and bewildered look, he laughs.

     “You let me into your apartment with only my word that I was supposed to be there. You’re lucky I didn’t do much else.”

     Your brain races with what ‘else’ he could have done to your home as he unbuttons your soiled jeans and eases them down your hips with your panties. Kylo bites at the dip of your hip bone, sucking a mark into your skin.

     “Most guys wouldn’t eat you out after you’d messed yourself but I don’t mind a little extra flavor.” he smirks, his breath hot on your exposed cunt as he rubs slow, tight circles on your clit.

     Renewed sobs wrack your body and you buck your hips and kick your legs in protest. Unfortunately Kylo seems ready for your resistance, pausing his ministrations to forcefully hold your pelvis down.

     “If you keep struggling, I’ll have to get the other restraints and then I’ll really make you hurt.” he growls in warning, dark eyes glinting dangerously.

     You turn your head away in shame but otherwise comply.

     “Good girl.” Kylo praises, licking a broad stripe from your perineum to your clit that causes the sensitive skin to tingle in unwanted pleasure.

     “No, p-please… Please don’t do this.” you beg, teary eyes beseeching your aggressor.

_‘Please don’t take this from me too.’_

     Kylo graces you with a truly wicked smile from between your thighs.

 _‘I will take_ **_everything_ ** _you have to give.’_

     The raven haired man buries his face in your pussy, sucking on your labia and nudging the sensitive bundle of nerves that crowns them with his prominent nose. His tongue snakes out of his mouth to delve inside of you, seemingly unbothered by the taste of your residual urine.

     For your part, you do your best to remain unaffected by his efforts, focusing on your overwhelming fear and self-hatred. You try to ignore the sinful fullness of his lips and how they feel slurping up the growing wetness between your legs. You tell yourself that the high pitched keening sound that resonates in your throat is caused by discomfort rather than a slowly burgeoning need.

     Even so, your traitorous body responds all too well to his lips and tongue, bowing off the bed slightly as Kylo begins to use his fingers. Your terror works against you, the adrenaline in your veins heightening the sensations of his fingers stretching you and his tongue and lips laving and sucking at your clit. You are almost certain that the humiliation and cognitive dissonance of this is worse than any pain he could inflict upon you.

     “I knew you’d like this.” Kylo laughs, the vibrations of his voice causing your hips to snap towards him.

     The warmth in your belly grows into a veritable inferno as Kylo redoubles his efforts, your shame running down your face in rivulets. In spite of your best efforts, you feel your orgasm approaching. The walls of your sex begin to flutter and Kylo must surely feel it, for he gives up any attempts at finesse and ravages you with his mouth like a man possessed.

     “Ah-hnng!” You bite your lip as soon as the strangled moan escapes you, the only one to pass your lips in this horrid exchange.

 _‘Nonononononono!!’_ your head shakes back and forth in denial, even as your body absolutely _sings_ with impending climax.

     Right before you peak, Kylo pulls away, the lower half of his grinning face glistening. The loud, garbled noise that escapes you is one part relief and two parts anguish.

     “Only good girls get to cum, Sweetheart.”

     He shoves his fingers, coated with your arousal, in your mouth. The bitter taste is not nearly as bitter as your heart, twisting in self-deprecation.

     Kylo grips the back of your neck with one hand, lifting your head off the bed enough to mash his lips against yours with a groan. The wetness of your tears on your face melds with the slick, slimy wetness of your juices on his own as the sound of his belt buckle warns you of what is to come.

     “Now be a good girl and take your punishment and next time I might let you finish.” he growls, leaning back for a moment to free his erection.

     The first time he’d raped you, you hadn’t seen him exposed and now you were thankful for it. Just like his body, his penis is intimidatingly large, the bulbous reddened tip leaking precum as it bobs towards you. No wonder you had hardly been able to walk afterward, there was no way you could take that a second time.

     You squirm beneath Kylo, panicking over the thought of having to take his monstrous cock. Surely it would injure you in some way. He slaps your thigh sharply in response, clearly unimpressed as he places a pillow under your hips to better line you up for him.

     Kylo forces his way inside you, eliciting a scream from you when he jabs your cervix roughly. Your pussy spasms wildly around him trying to adjust to his size.

     “ _Fuck-_ you feel so good. I missed this fucking cunt. God _damn_!” he groans into your shoulder, biting it hard enough to break the skin.

     Your crying turns into outright wailing as Kylo pistons in and out of you savagely. His cock stretches you painfully and he seems intent on slamming into your cervix with each thrust. No matter how aroused you had been before, you were not prepared for this. It truly is a punishment, meant only to hurt and dominate you.

     Several long moments pass with only the sound of your cries, his moans, and the vulgar slapping of flesh to fill them. Your voice is hoarse from his choking you and your own long winded sobs, barely loud enough to be audible.

     “One day, you’ll love this. One day, _-fuck-_ you’ll beg me to split your pretty little pussy open with my cock.” he growls in your ear, his pace becoming erratic.

     With a groan he extracts himself from you, pressing his thumb into your mouth and forcing your jaw open. He stuffs your mouth full of his dick, fucking into your convulsing throat before roaring his release.

     “Swallow it, Sweetheart, and don’t even _think_ about biting.” he pants, shallowly thrusting a few times before pulling out of your mouth with a ‘pop’.

     You obey docilely, the salty tang of his semen lingering unpleasantly. Kylo roughly pats your cheek in appreciation while struggling to catch his breath.

     “You’re so fucking perfect… and all _mine_.” he says a little breathless as he tucks himself back into his pants and releases your wrists from the restraints.

     Your arms are incredibly sore from being held in their static position for so long and the rest of your body is faring worse. Your neck is tender and Kylo’s bite on your shoulder throbs. Your stomach is cramping far worse than anything you’ve ever dealt with, even on your worst period. Your abused vagina aches and stings in ways it never has before.

     You’re so caught up in dazedly taking stock of all your pains that you don’t even notice Kylo leave the bed.

     “Thanks, Y/N, I had fun today. Next time I’ll take you to my place.”

     His voice is sweet and rich as he says this, bending at the waist to kiss your cheek chastely before he leaves.

     You want to die.

 

* * *

 

     You’re not sure how long you lay nearly catatonic in your bed but you eventually pull yourself up and pad softly to your bathroom. Tugging your shirt over your head, you make a point not to look at your reflection as you turn the shower onto the hottest setting possible. You can’t bear to see yourself now, can’t bear to face reality.

     Your socks and bra come off next and you step into the shower, welcoming the scalding water. You stand there for a few minutes before you begin scrubbing the filth from your body. Everywhere Kylo had touched feels dirty in a way that you’re not sure will ever be clean again. You try your best to clean yourself anyways, scrubbing your skin until it’s raw and oversensitized.

     Suddenly, a thought comes to you, sharp and bright, a tiny ray of hope in your dismal mind. If there was anyone left in the world that would welcome you despite any transgressions you may have made, you knew without a doubt who it was.

     Who cared if you had to swallow your pride? Kylo had taken all of that from you anyways.

     Hastily, you hop out of the shower, throwing whatever clothing you grab on your still wet body. You aren’t sure if Kylo is planning to come back so you hurry to pack a small bag of essentials before racing out of your apartment to your car.

     It takes you a little over an hour to return to the city you’d lived in before Kylo had ruined your life. Fifteen minutes out of the city limits, you pull into the driveway of a small, single story house.

     With shaky hands, you park and walk up to knock on the door. After several moments, you hear the lock click and the door open.

     Your childhood friend looks at you with uncharacteristically guarded eyes, although his expression softens at the sight of your broken gaze and the small backpack hanging from your trembling form. You are certain you look like shit.

     “ **_Poe._ ** ” you whimper, trying to hold back your tears.

     Poe Dameron lets out a long suffering sigh, running a hand through his hair before stepping aside.

     “Get inside.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kylo's such a mouthy, creepy little shit. Definitely not boyfriend material.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left me comments and kudos!! It really motivated me to write this sooner than I had anticipated!


	3. Chapter 3

     Poe’s house is exactly the same as you remember it. You wonder idly if it really has been over six months since you’d last talked to him. The cautious way in which Poe regards you and the tentative presence of Finn lingering at the fringes of the living room reminds you that it has, in fact, been half a year since you had last seen them. 

     You sit on the lumpy couch, drowning in the awkward silence. Your hair is still a little wet from your shower earlier and hangs in thick, matted ropes around your face. You squish your toes into the plush carpet, waiting for the proverbial axe to come down and make you face the consequences of your actions all those months ago.

     “Well? What have you done this time?” 

     Poe is the first one to break the silence, his voice rough with resentment. You shrink in further on yourself, wanting desperately to disappear. You can hear Finn retreat to the kitchen and start fumbling with dishes in the sink. 

     Finn never washes dishes.  

     “I, uh, I’m sorry about before.” You mumble into your chest, unable to quite meet his gaze.

     “We’re not talking about that right now.” Poe’s tone is clipped and harbors no room for argument.

     “What have you gotten into? Do you owe money or something?” Poe asks, the genuine concern in his eyes belies his gruff demeanor. 

     “I wish I did, Posy.” you say morosely, calling him by his childhood nickname.

     “You don’t get to call me that. Just tell me why you’re here so I can decide if I should let you stay.”

     His comment certainly garners your attention and you stare up at him in surprise. Would Poe really turn you away?

     You inhale sharply, steadying yourself. Why is it so hard to tell Poe when it had been so easy with Chief Hux and Maz?

     “Iwasrapedandhefoundmeagain.” you blurt in one breath.

     It’s like ripping off a bandaid and now you wait for the sting. It’s quiet for a moment, even the sound of Finn doing dishes stops. You brave a glance up at Poe, standing with his arms crossed a few feet in front of you. 

     You expect many things from his expression; shock, anger, hurt, and maybe (you hope) compassion. All of those things you find, but what hurts most is the overwhelming  _ pity  _ you find in his eyes.

     “Is that why you let me…?” he trails off, piecing things together.

     You nod meekly, there’s no point in lying. A look of self-loathing settles over his face and he turns away from you.

     “Did you go to the police?”

     It’s Finn that asks you this and although he has no reason at all to care, his eyes are alight with a desire to help you. He stands between the kitchen and living room, a damp pink dishtowel slung over his shoulder.

     You nod, licking your chapped lips before giving a proper response.

     “They said they couldn’t do anything until there was more physical evidence. The chief of police gave me his number in case he showed up again.”

     Tears prick your eyes as you remember how poorly calling Hux had worked out for you. You aren’t sure if you can bring yourself to tell them that it had happened again, just hours ago.

     “You can’t stay here.” Poe says, jaw set stubbornly.

     “What?  _ Poe _ .” Finn fixes the brunette with a stern look.

     “If anything, you shouldn’t want her here either.” Poe points out, the truth of the statement cutting.

     “It doesn’t matter how I feel, what matters is what’s right.” Finn pushes, the rare moment of obstinacy taking you by surprise.

     “She just  _ can’t _ , okay?!” your childhood friend explodes, hitting the wall in his frustration.

     Poe’s outburst, so similar to something you’d seen Kylo do, causes you to shrink in on yourself and you and Finn share a startled look.

     The dark haired man walks out of the room, returning a beat later with a small duffel and his keys. 

     “I’ve got work. Figure something else out before I get home.” Poe addresses his boyfriend, not sparing you a glance as he leaves.

     You try desperately not to cry, you’ve done so much of that today. 

     Finn sits down on the couch beside you and you try, and fail at, not flinching when he places a big, warm palm on your knee in an attempt at comfort.

     “He - He’ll come around.” Finn’s voice betrays him, shaking in uncertainty. 

     You nod woodenly, wondering how you could have so irrevocably ruined a lifetime of friendship with Poe.

     “He’s in love with you.” 

     Finn sounds so small in this moment, clasping his hands between his spread knees. You turn towards him, placing a cold hand on his.

     “No, he loves you.” You deny fervently.

     In all the years you’ve known Poe, there is only one person he’s ever completely devoted himself to and it is shy, compassionate Finn. He’d even almost given up stripping, a job he loved, to work at his dad’s machine shop in order to be a more suitable boyfriend for him. However, Finn, in his endless fount of understanding, has absolutely forbidden Poe from even talking about it. Their unconditional love for each other is something you still hope for, in the deepest corners of your aching heart.

     And you’d nearly ruined it for them in a night of drunken self-pity.

     You close your eyes, a new pain developing as echoes of Poe’s lips on yours fill your mind. You can still feel the way he’d worshipped your body. The tender caresses, the gentle way he held you, as though you were something precious to be cherished. 

     Yet you had laid there, silently crying and wishing that you didn’t feel or see Kylo with every touch and whispered praise.

_      “I love you” _ Poe had said, wrapping you in his arms as his cum trickled out of you, leaving you feeling dirtier and more unworthy than before.

     A sob catches in your throat at the memory. You wonder what might have been, if Kylo hadn’t ruined you so completely. You wonder if the three of you could have figured something out and been happy. 

     “He loves both of us.” Finn says after a long moment.

     The hauntingly tragic look on his sweet face breaks your heart further and you wonder if you can ever repair it, crushed into dust as it is.

 

* * *

 

     Finn takes you to the police station to file another report after he wrings out the events of the last few months from you.

     The officer you talk to takes pictures of the bruising on your neck, the violently darkening bite mark on your shoulder, and gives you a rape kit. It now seems so foolish of you to have taken a shower immediately after Kylo had left. Any genetic evidence was washed away in your desire to be clean again.

     When Armitage Hux walks into the office you’re holed up in, despite not being on duty, you find it a little odd. Why is the chief of police so interested in your case? Surely there are other things he should be doing.

     Even so, you tell him in as much detail as you can bear the events that led you to the police, again. His ice blue eyes look disinterested at best and when he speaks, his tone is clipped and dismissive.

     “My hands are tied, Ms. Y/L/N.  I can’t afford to waste resources looking for a man that doesn’t exist in any known records. If you see him again, call my number, but until then I would advise laying low and not putting yourself in potentially dangerous situations.”

     “That’s bullshit!” Finn shouts, standing out of his chair in outrage.

     His hand, that he’d offered you at the start of your conversation with Hux, still grips yours, perhaps tighter than before. 

     “Can’t you check security footage from around the area to see if she recognizes him? She’s got his fucking  _ teeth  _ marks on her! Can’t you take pictures and find that bastard with his dental records?” 

     You have never seen Finn so angry and it warms you just as much as it fills you with guilt and fear. The veins in his neck bulge and his hands are curled into fists so tight your hand is losing circulation.

     “Calm down, Mr… Finn, was it?” 

     Hux looks absolutely  _ bored  _ by Finn’s display, examining his fingernails in the fluorescent lighting of the office before fixing Finn with his piercing gaze.

     “Finn, this is not CSI. That’s not how this process works. Why would I waste all of those resources to put away one man when I could use those same resources and put down an entire drug ring? I do what I can with what I have. Right now, all I have is a fake name, a bouquet of roses, and a couple of pictures of bruises.” He says slowly, as if talking to a child

     “You’re an asshole.” Finn spits out, pulling you by the hand and storming out of the office.

     “You have my number, Ms. Y/L/N!” Hux calls out as you leave.

 

* * *

 

     After Finn’s outburst at the police station, he takes you to Waffle House, one of the only places open at this hour. Despite your lack of appetite, you find yourself shovelling greasy hash browns into your mouth, half-heartedly listening to Finn as he rants about the injustice of your situation. 

     When you ask him if there’s anyone he knows that you can stay with for a night or two, he looks at you as if you’re the dumbest person he's ever met.

     “You’re staying with us.” he says with an air of finality.

     “But Poe-” you begin to protest.

     “‘But Poe’ nothing. He can learn to deal with it. You’re in danger and since the police won’t protect you, I’ll make sure we will.” 

     When you get back to Finn and Poe’s house, Poe’s car is in the driveway and the lights are turned off. Finn puts a pillow and some spare blankets on the couch for you, the both of you doing your best to avoid waking Poe in the bedroom.

     "I'm really sorry...for everything." you murmur as Finn places his hand on the bedroom door.

     "I know. If you'd just come to us when this happened, we could have helped you from the beginning." Finn says, sending you a regretful smile before bidding you goodnight.

     It isn’t until after you’ve changed and brushed your teeth that you see a single red rose sitting on the end table between the couch and the door.

     Your heart stutters to a stop and you hesitantly touch the ominous flower, placed in front of an old picture of Poe and yourself. 

     Poe probably put it there to apologize to Finn when he got home, you try to convince yourself as you lay down and fall into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Finn, he's such a sweet little cinnamon roll. He needs more love!


	4. Chapter 4

     You’re roused from sleep by Poe shaking your shoulders. You sputter and gasp at the rough awakening, reflexively jerking your palm out to fend off your aggressor.

     “Whoa! Hey, hey, not in the moneymaker!” Poe shouts, easily catching your hand before it makes contact with his face.

     “Pretty sure it’s not your _face_ making the money.” you grumble grouchily, forgetting for a moment that Poe probably hates you and that you should be timidly begging his forgiveness.

     “I’m going to pretend you did not just insult the highest paid male stripper in the tri-county area.” Poe quips as though he too forgets the current situation.

     “Just imagine how well you’d do if you had tits.” you grin, peering up at him through your messy bedhead.

     His dark brown eyes meet yours and you feel something intangible pass between you. When had he become so beautiful? You lick your suddenly dry lips and the way Poe’s eyes follow that small movement causes heat to stir within you.

     “Hey baby, leave Y/N alone. We didn’t get back until...late.” Finn enters the living room to scold his boyfriend but trails off as he sees the near intimate exchange between you two.

     The moment is lost and you lean back against the couch, ashamed.

     “It seems the two of you are getting along now.” Finn jokes, as if unbothered by the situation.

     Poe doesn’t acknowledge what had almost happened. You aren’t sure if it’s denial or if he thinks that ignoring it will make it go away. You’re fine with it either way.

     “Well, if she’s staying here, she can pull her weight by making us pancakes to start.” Poe says, coughing in the same manner he always has when his hand is caught in the proverbial cookie jar.

     You bite back the smile threatening to split your face. Despite your guilt, it’s comforting to see glimpses of the Poe you knew before you royally fucked everything up. He’s always loved your cooking.

     “Oh, well, that’d be nice. But only if you want to. I don’t want you to feel like you owe us anything.” Finn stresses.

     Even in something so small, he’s considerate of you. He’s a walking reminder of the terrible person you are.

     Stretching your arms above your head, you give Finn what you hope is a reassuring smile.

     “I haven’t cooked in a while, so I hope I’m not rusty.”

     You stand from the couch and make your way to the kitchen, quickly making yourself at home. It’s nostalgic, rifling through the cupboards while Poe and Finn sit at the table tucked into the corner, flirting shamelessly with each other.

     Despite everything, they look so happy together, still so in love. You’re surprised by the flare of jealousy you feel and you aren’t sure if you’re jealous of Finn for having Poe, or of Poe for having Finn. You tamp down on your unwanted feelings, focusing on sifting your dry ingredients together before opening the fridge to get the almond milk and eggs.

     “Hey, sorry to interrupt, but do you guys have bacon?” you ask, moving aside several cartons of takeout and jars of sauces running the gamut from sweet chili sauce to pesto in your hunt.

     Poe scoffed.

     “Do we have bacon? What kind of men would we be if we didn’t?” he asks and though he tries to speak lightly, there’s still an edge to his voice.

     There’s still much for you to talk about to him to clear the air, but for the most part, he seems to have at least partly forgiven you.

     “You’re a vegetarian.” Finn contradicts him flatly.

     You raise an eyebrow at that. You are surprised that Poe was still on his no meat kick. Maybe he’ll stick with it this time.

     “ _I_ might not eat it, but I’m pretty sure you’d bathe in bacon grease if I let you.” Poe retorted with a laugh.

     “Actually, Y/N, I think I ate the last of it a couple days ago.” Finn admits sheepishly.

     “That’s fine, we can just have breakfast without bacon then.” You say, finally closing the fridge.

     “You even ate the stuff in the freezer?” Poe asks his boyfriend incredulously.

     The subtle darkening of Finn’s cheeks is all the answer anyone needs. He stands abruptly and heads toward the front of the house.

     “I’m going to the store. It’s not breakfast without bacon!” Finn shouts over his shoulder, grabbing a jacket and his keys before leaving.

     An awkward silence passes as you begin to whisk in the wet ingredients into the dry for the pancake batter.

     “Do you have to use those?” Poe breaks the tension, eyeing the uncracked egg in your hand with disgust.

     You cock your hip and place a hand on it, thinking of your options.

     “I never knew you were so picky,” you joke, “but no, I don’t have to use eggs. I can use applesauce instead.  I think I saw some in the fridge.”

     You turn away from him, bending at the waist to forage for the applesauce in the back of the fridge, hoping to all that is holy that it isn’t expired.

     “Don’t do that.” Poe demands, sounding strained.

     “What?”

     You start to straighten up and bash your head against one of the shelves in the fridge. Muttering a soft ‘ow, fuck’ you turn to Poe, applesauce in hand.

     “What’d you say?” You ask, having not heard him properly the first time.

     “I said, don’t do that. When you bend over like that, it’s distracting.” he says, sounding almost as uncomfortable as you feel.

     You wiggle your toes, trying to will away the awkward surge of pride at the comment.

     “This isn’t fair to Finn.” you respond, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth.

     Poe narrows his eyes, the muscles in his jaw twitching.

     “You weren’t saying that when I fucked you in our bed.” he bites out.

     You shrink away from him, regretting ruining whatever bridge you were starting to mend with your once best friend. Without Finn to act as a buffer, the air between you and Poe is toxically charged with resentment and sexual tension.

     You choose not to say anything, focusing on cooking. When the pan gets hot enough, you begin pouring fairly large pancakes.

     “Look, I’m sorry I’m being an asshole.” Poe says after a long moment.

     “I just - It’s hard to have you come back into my life and act like nothing happened. I mean, I get why you left and I even kind of understand why you slept with me. I just wish you would have come to me about that psycho when it first started. Maybe I could have done something to protect you.”

     You turn to look at him and almost drop your spatula. His soulful brown eyes are misty and vulnerable, something you have only seen a handful of times in your lifelong friendship.

     “I’ve loved you since I was fourteen years old. You never noticed though and when you came to me that night, you have to realize what an opportunity that was to me. I thought maybe I could get you to want me back, to love me too.”

     Your chest hurts at his admission.

     “Poe…” you begin.

     “Let me finish.” he holds his hand up.

     “But then you left without any word, without any idea of where you could have gone. Finn was so angry with me, he didn’t talk to me for a month.” Poe lets out a shaky breath.

     “ In a single night I lost the woman I’d loved since I was a teenager, I lost my best friend, and I almost lost the most pure and beautiful man I’d ever had the privilege of being with. And now you’re here again and everything is such a mess and I can’t even really blame you because all of this happened because of some psychopath you were too afraid to tell me about.”

     “Poe, I’m _so_ sorry.” your voice is whisper soft, not sure what you can say to fix this.

     Poe stands from his seat at the table and crosses the room, stopping just short of you. His gaze is almost tender. The hand that reaches out to touch your cheek is tentative and for the first time in months, you don’t flinch at human contact.

     “I know this is the completely wrong time for this, but if after that guy is found and taken care of… if you want to try being with me and Finn, we’d like that.”

     You stare at him, completely overwhelmed. Everything is so new and too much for you to process.

     “Is Finn…?” you trail off, not sure how to word it.

     “Finn was actually the one to suggest it last night. He’s not exactly attracted to women in general but he said if he could ever share, it’d be with you. I don’t want you to feel pressured, if you don’t think it’s for you, we can just be friends like we always were. But please think about it when you’re ready.” Poe says, his voice strong and clear.

     Part of you is a little upset with him for dumping this on you, despite knowing what you’re going through. Even so, it wouldn’t be Poe if he wasn’t impatient and overly passionate.

     The scent of burning food snaps you out of your thoughts and you curse under your breath. The first batch of pancakes are unsalvageable. You begin pouring another batch, standing dutifully in front of the stove. You know Poe is waiting for some response.

     “I’ll- I’ll think about it when I can… I just - right now is really not a time when I can even think about something like that.” you answer his unspoken question.

     “I know, I just wanted you to know so that you could stop hating yourself for something that Finn and I have already dealt with.”

     You smile, somewhat appeased that he wasn’t telling you all of this just for his own selfish reasons.

     It doesn’t take long for you to finish the pancakes and set them on the table, ready to eat when Finn returns.

     Except he doesn’t come back. An hour passes, and then another. You know it’s too early to get paranoid but some part of you is terrified that Kylo has found you again and has done something to him to punish you. However, the only person who you’ve told of your whereabouts was Chief Hux, in case anything happened.

     With every minute that Finn is gone too long, your anxiety mounts. Until Poe gets a phone call.

     His face goes pale and you can see his hand grip the phone too tight in his shaking hands.

     Poe dashes to the door and grabs his keys, still in only his boxers.

     He looks at you as if to beckon you to him, his eyes wide with panic.

     “Finn was in an accident.”

* * *

 

     The doctors tell you  that Finn drove through a red light and was sideswiped by a semi-truck. He’s lucky to be alive.

     The police say they think that there might have been a hole in the brake lines that prevented him from stopping. You feel terror start to grip your heart. You don’t have any evidence, but you’re almost certain it was Kylo.

     You don’t have time to have a panic attack, however. You have to be strong for Poe who is nearly inconsolable as you wait for Finn to get out of surgery.

     When the nurses cart Finn back into the room, the both of you hold each other and cry. Finn’s beautiful chocolate brown skin is sallow and riddled with cuts and bruises. They tell you that there was significant damage done to his spine and that he may never walk again.

     Poe lashes out, screaming at the nurses. He says that’s bullshit, that they can do something to fix it. When he begins to throw things around the room, you grab his arm and take him out to the parking lot to cool down, apologizing profusely to the nurses.

     “What the fuck, Poe?” you snarl, scolding him for his behavior in Finn’s room.

     “You don’t understand.” Poe growls, pacing back and forth on the pavement irritably.

     “Finn’s my friend! What don’t I understand?” you retort.

     “He’s my boyfriend! Why did it have to be him to suffer like this? Huh?! All over stupid fucking bacon!”

     For once, you’re happy that the parking lot is empty. If someone were to see the two of you, they would assume the worst of Poe. For once, you're not afraid in the wake of Poe’s rage. You know he wouldn’t ever hurt you.

     “Do you think you acting like a child is helping anything?” You shout at him.

     Poe glares at you, directing his anger onto you.

     "Don’t you _dare_ talk to me about acting like a child! You’re the one who-”

     You cut him off with your lips. You know it’s a stupid thing to do, but it’s the only way you’re sure you can shut him up and maybe calm him down.

     It surprisingly works. You feel his mouth soften against yours, the fight slowly draining from him.

     You pull away from him and he chases your lips with his, pressing insistently against them.

    The moment is short lived as Poe is forcibly yanked from you and thrown with monstrous force to the ground.

     You squint in the dim light, trying to identify the hulking shadow currently kicking the shit out of Poe as you try to pull him off of your friend.

     You bite down hard on his arm, anything to save Poe from the savage beating he’s receiving. The figure elbows you sharply in the chest, knocking the wind out of you as you fall to the ground.

     A head of wavy black hair turns to you and time seems to stand still. You know that face anywhere.

_‘Kylo’_

     “ _Bitch_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize! This chapter was a little harder to write. Be prepared for lots of non-con and creepy Kylo next chapter.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long! I had technical difficulties that made rewriting this chapter very discouraging. Things are only getting worse for Reader, unfortunately.

     You wake up nude on a mound of pillows, momentarily disoriented. You try to piece together your memories. Flashes of Poe bleeding on the ground, a rough woolen sleeve beneath your teeth, and then…  _ Kylo _ . You surmise you must have fainted from the stress of the moment. Your health hasn’t been good lately and it had failed you at the worst of times.

     You wonder how long you’ve been out. You wonder how Poe is, if he’s still alive. You wonder if Finn has woken up and if so, what kind of broken future he’s woken up to. 

     All these things plague you as you try to take stock of your surroundings. The unfamiliarity of the room is immediately worrisome. When you try to move, you notice with mounting panic that your wrists are bound tightly with leather and tied to a fixture in the carpeted floor beneath you.

     There’s only one person you can think of that would do this to you.

     Your first instinct is to scream, you can feel it bubbling up in your chest trying to escape your throat. But Kylo isn’t dumb. He wouldn’t put himself in danger of being caught. You have the growing suspicion that the only person that would ever hear your cries for help would be him.

     You remember how furious Kylo had been before you’d passed out and yank desperately at your restraints. What had happened to Poe would be nothing compared to what he’d do to you, if the look he’d given you was anything to go by. Planting your bare feet on either side of the fixture in the floor, you jerk against it with all of your strength, nearly pulling your shoulders out of their sockets in your attempts to break free. 

     Panting after several minutes of futile struggling, you plop down and survey your surroundings more thoroughly. A stairwell is visible across the expansive room. You figure by the lack of windows that you must be in the basement, although by basement standards it is the nicest you’ve ever seen. 

     A treadmill sits a few feet back from a large flat screen TV and you can see four doorways leading to other rooms. Of the four doorways, two have the doors open, revealing a laundry room and a bathroom with what looks like floor to ceiling marble and fancy looking fixtures. The furniture that decorates the space is simple but posh looking. The space doesn’t even have the weird musty smell that you thought every basement had.

     With as mentally unstable as Kylo is, you’re surprised he’s high-functioning enough to be able to afford to live like this and not in a trailer deep in the woods somewhere. You wonder what Kylo does for a living, wonder if anyone would suspect him of raping and keeping a woman locked in his basement. 

     Your heart nearly lodges itself in your throat when you hear a door slam and muffled voices echo down the stairs. The first voice is deep and seemingly stoic while the second voice is almost shrill in its irritation.

     “-have any idea the shit show you’ve left for me, Solo?!” the second voice yells, so eerily familiar that you give yourself a headache trying to match it to a face.

     “-t’s not my problem.” the first voice you almost instantly recognize as Kylo replies.

     The thrumming of your pulse intensifies, hands sweating as you debate whether or not to draw attention to yourself. 

     The choice is taken from you when you hear footsteps at the top of the stairs descending towards you. 

     Kylo emerges from the threshold of the stairwell, his hair tied back and dressed in a sharp navy blue suit. You curl in on yourself, pulling one of the pillows atop your pile closer to your naked form. Every muscle in your body is tense, waiting for the inevitable.

     Your kidnapper’s gaze is somehow both reverent and black with fury. His lip raises in a snarl, massive hands curling into fists as he stares at your cowering form. You do your best to control your breathing, clinging to your pillow like a lifeline. Silent tears course down your cheeks and you find yourself praying not for the first time that this is just some awful dream.

     “Don’t ignore me, Solo!” the familiar voice nags from somewhere on the stairs, following Kylo in his descent.

     “ _Fucking_ _Christ_! You’re keeping her here?” the person is incredulous as they enter the basement after your stalker.

     Everything around you fades to nothingness as your vision hones in on the owner of the voice. Pieces of a puzzle that never made sense to you click into place as you stare at them and you feel your hope shatter into a billion unsalvageable pieces.

     ‘Chief Hux.’

     Armitage Hux stands in the threshold, for a moment looking as dumbfounded by your presence as you are of his. He quickly schools his features into indifference, the slightest hint of disdain perceivable when he addresses Kylo.

     “You’ve never kept any of the others, why this one?”

     There’s a brief moment of silence, long enough for you to process that you are not the only one that has been terrorized by Kylo. You try not to think of what might have happened to them.

     “Y/N’s special.” he answers simply.

     The intensity in which he says your name sends chills down your spine. You intuitively know he’s waiting for you to look at him, but your eyes are glued to Hux, a single question repeating over and over in your mind.

     “ _ Why? _ ”

     It sounds more pitiful coming from your lips than you intend and the ginger haired officer curls his lips in distaste at you.

     “What a stupid little girl. You still don’t know who he is?” his voice is cutting.

     You flinch at the condescension in his voice and you want to look over at Kylo to try to piece everything together but you’re too afraid of what you might find. Shaking your head, you try to shrink further behind your pillow, the only thing protecting your modesty.

     “Look at me, Sweetheart.” Kylo commands, his tone soft but for the slight edge of annoyance. 

     It isn’t clear to you whether his annoyance is at your fear-driven avoidance of him or because of what he’d seen transpire between Poe and yourself. Even so, you can’t bring yourself to look at him, some infantile part of you trying to pretend that _this-_ Kylo, his basement, Hux’s betrayal- none of it is real. 

     A sudden shuffling noise and the thunderous sound of Kylo’s feet stomping towards you are the only warnings you have before you’re backhanded so hard you taste blood.

_      “I said look at me!” _

     Your eyes, trained on Hux’s disinterested countenance, shift to the berserker in front of you in alarm. Kylo is seething, visibly shaking in his efforts to reign in his temper.  

     Solo, that was the name that Hux had called him before they’d come down the stairs. You’re suddenly vividly reminded of a newsreel you’d seen as a girl. A young boy had been the sole survivor of a tragic car accident. The story had been even more newsworthy as his mother had been an overwhelmingly popular candidate for governor and his father had been a famous former street racer. He’d shortly after been adopted by his mother’s competition, the current governor. What you remembered most about the broadcast was the video of the boy, dark hair curling wildly around his face, trembling not in sorrow but in rage as he glared at his father’s casket. His name had been…

     “ _ Ben Solo _ .” 

     As the name slips from your lips, Kylo’s expression becomes unreadable.

     “I think it’s time you leave, Armitage.” he says after a beat, voice dangerously low.

     You immediately feel as though you’ve made a grave mistake in acknowledging his true identity. You look over at Hux, wordlessly imploring him not to leave you alone with your rapist. Hux barely spares you a glance as he turns to leave.

     “I hope you reconsider keeping her, her little boyfriend knows what you look like. It’s only a matter of time before he pieces together who you are. I’ll also be informing your father of your latest fixation. I’m sure he won’t be pleased with this nonsense.”

     And with that, he ascends the stairs, slamming the door loudly on his way out.

     Kylo is shaking in rage again and turns without warning to punch the nearby wall, seemingly effortlessly putting a fist-shaped hole through the drywall. He rounds on you, gripping you by your hair and lifting you to snarl in your face.

     “Traitorous bitch!”

     He throws you to the carpeted ground, his chest heaving. Tears prick at your eyes and you stare at him in confusion.

     What on Earth had you done to set him off?

     “Don’t act like you don’t know!  _ Don’t act like you don’t know, you stupid bitch! _ ” Kylo screams at you, clawing his fingers into his wavy raven hair.

     Tears flow freely from you now, thoroughly terrified by the giant’s crumbling emotional state. You bite the pillow cradled in your arms to stifle your whimpers. All you want is to sink into obscurity, to be so far beneath his notice that his eyes see through you as though you are a pane of glass or a clear pool of water reflecting his image.

     However, it seems that the only thing he ever sees is you. It’s horrifying.

     “You sit there and stare all moon-eyed at that ginger  _ cocksucker  _ after you  _ dared  _ to entertain the affections of  _ filth.   _ My marks have not even faded from your body and you’re shamelessly whoring around!” Kylo’s voice cracks slightly.

     You’re completely baffled. How could he think you would want anything to do with Hux after his sociopathic display of betrayal? How dare Kylo think he has any right to you or your body after all he has and is still putting you through? How could one person be so delusional? 

     A sudden, stupid surge of anger swells in you and damning words slip from your mouth before you can catch them.

     “You think you can mark me, like an animal, and you suddenly have some kind of ownership of me? You’re a fucking psychopath!” you sneer as though you aren’t naked and bound to the floor, as though you aren’t completely at his nonexistent mercy.

     You instantly wish you could swallow back your cutting remark. More horrible than his unstable outpourings of anger is the eerie calm that settles over him. His eyes are black with cold fury and you have never been more petrified of him than in this moment.

     “You want to be marked like an animal? Oh, I’ll mark you, cunt.” he intones with a dangerously low, silken timbre.

     You stare, transfixed as he unzips his pants and pulls out his semi-flaccid length. You’re not sure what he intends to do to you but the cruel smile he gives you is all the warning you need. 

     A warm stream of pale golden liquid spatters on your cheek and runs down the side of your neck and between your breasts. You are frozen in mortification, never having thought that he would sink to this level of depravity.

     “Look at you taking it so well. You wanted this.” He groans as the current of his piss peters out.

     You don’t want this, you’ve never wanted any of this.

     “Next time you’ll drink it. You’ve made a mess all over the carpet.” he laughs darkly.

     Bile rises in your throat and the only thing that prevents you from releasing your sick is the knowledge that you would likely be left to sit in it as punishment.

     Kylo cards a hand through your hair, almost tenderly, before gripping the strands and pulling harshly at your scalp as he jerks your head at an awkward angle.

     “We’re not done. You haven’t been properly marked yet, Sweetheart.” he murmurs, his breath hot against the rapidly cooling wetness on your cheek.

     “Fuck you.” 

     The resounding slap he lands on your cheek is expected and doesn’t hurt nearly as much as his continued degradation of you. For once you feel something other than fear in his presence. Pride courses through your veins at your display of defiance.

     It’s short-lived as Kylo grabs your skull in one massive palm and grinds your face into the carpet, positioning himself over your back. You scramble underneath him in an attempt to escape what you know will come next. 

     The effort is wasted under his sturdy weight and only serves to sap your already depleted energy reserves. He spits into his hand and you can feel him reach down to lubricate his cock. 

     You can do nothing but close your eyes and bite your lip as Kylo forces his way inside your dry channel. 

     The burning stretch of him is made even more unbearable as he bottoms out in you, not at all gentle. The zipper of his slacks scratches the back of your thigh and the fabric chafes against your bare skin. You feel his hips undulating against your ass, driving himself impossibly deeper. Surely something will tear if he continues like this.

     His thrusts steadily gain speed and a strangled yelp escapes you at the increased friction. You manage to wriggle an arm out and attempt to elbow him. Your leather bound wrists prevent you from fully committing to the action and only incense him further. 

      “I’ll give you a mark you’ll never forget, you ungrateful whore.” he growls, pulling out of you for one blessed moment to flip you onto your back and pin your arms underneath your weight.

     Kylo’s plump lips follow the trail his piss had made, placing sloppy kisses from your cheek to your chest. Your heaving sobs seem not to affect him at all as he continues punishing your abused pussy with his cock.

     You feel his teeth rake over your breast and an ominous feeling washes over you.

     “No, no, no, no, no, please no!” you babble, a prayer to a vengeful god, flailing further beneath his assault.

     Kylo bites down hard on the breast tissue right above your heart, rending the flesh with ease. Your scream is bone chilling in response. 

     Your body stills as you realize too late the futility in fighting. Your arms are pinned awkwardly and your legs are splayed so wide they hurt you more than him. Struggling has only provoked him to further violence, so you soften your body and become malleable beneath his overwhelming force.

     Kylo presses a savage kiss to your unresponsive lips, smearing your blood across them. You try to distance your mind from your body, pretending to be elsewhere as you stare blankly at a fixed point in the ceiling.The rhythmic rocking of your body is merely the rocking of a boat on the ocean headed somewhere far away.

     Your mind is so far removed from your body that when the first tingles of pleasure, your body’s defense against your continued assault, flow through you, you feel none of the shame that would normally accompany it. In fact, you feel nothing at all. It is almost bliss.

     “ _ Look at me! _ ” Kylo demands, quickly catching on to your attempts to escape the moment.

     You do as he commands, shifting your deadened gaze from the ceiling to his reddened face. He squeezes your jaw in his hand and forces your face nearly nose to nose with him. 

     “I don’t want to hurt you but you just… keep  _ fighting _ .” he croaks, voice thick with emotion.

     You remain unmoved, pinned as you are underneath him as he continues to press his shaft as deep as he can inside you.

     “I just...don’t know what to do. How can I make you understand?  _ How can I make you love me? _ ” he’s crying now, big fat tears falling from his eyes to your face.

     “It would be so much easier if you’d just love me. Just love me. _Please._ _Love me._ ” he implores you, his thrusting hips almost gentle as he entreats you.

     Turning your head to the side, you try to hide your own tears. Sniffling whimpers, his and yours, join with Kylo’s occasional moan of pleasure. The steady rhythm of his body rutting into you seems unending.

     You want nothing more than to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What can I do to make you love me?" ... Umm... not raping me would be a good start.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long!!! There's only one more to go!

     Hours fade into days fade into weeks, until you’re not sure how much time has passed since your abduction. It’s been long enough that the bite on your breast has fully healed into a scar. A large, ugly reminder of the man that thinks he owns you. 

     He kisses it every time he greets you. 

     You’re still fastened to the floor, the leather bindings secured around your wrists. Ben, or Kylo as you had come to know him first, says he still can’t trust you. He turns the TV on for you every morning before he leaves, after making sure to feed you, brush your teeth, and finger comb your hair. You sit docilely and endure, it’s far easier that way.  

     It is not his leaving that frightens you. 

     When he returns, he’s often in a temper and indulges his most violent urges on you. You aren’t sure what’s worse: the neverending ache between your legs and across your body or the desperate, gentle way he kisses every bruise and bleeding mark afterwards.

     While he does undo your binds to allow you to refresh yourself usually, you haven’t properly bathed in as long as you’ve been kidnapped and your body is covered in a thick, crusted smattering of Ben’s seed and your own blood, sweat, and cum. You keep hoping that your stench will deter him from you but you’re proven again and again that nothing, not even your filth, will keep the raven haired man from you.

     “Snoke wishes to meet you.” Ben murmurs softly, breaking you from your thoughts as he scoops another spoonful of mashed potatoes for you to eat. 

     The muscles in your jaw are particularly sore today, Ben had been a veritable well of rage when he’d returned and had felt the need to use your mouth. The brutal face-fucking he’d subjected you to leaves you unable to enjoy, or even bear, the task of eating. Every mouthful feels as if you’re swallowing fire, burning its way down your raw throat to your belly.

     Even if you wanted to respond to his statement, you doubt the rasped whisper you’d utter would be in any way coherent.

     “You should shower and dress. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea about us.” his voice breaks the stifling silence.

     You feel anger bubble up in your chest but you quickly reign in your temper. Ben’s violence feeds off of your helpless fury. 

     “I can’t.” you murmur, your voice as ruined as you had expected as you tug weakly at your bound wrists.

     Ben occasionally forgets the position he’s left you in. He’ll leave you without a trip to the toilet for days and is furious when he finds that you’ve messed yourself.

     He touches your cheek gently and you barely restrain your urge to flinch, the contact tolerated but stomach churning. 

     “I know, Sweetheart.”

     His eyes light up suddenly and what would be a beautiful smile to anyone else spreads across his face. 

     “I’ll be right back, love.” he announces, making sure to grab your dinner plate before hurrying up the stairs. 

     You aren’t sure if what he leaves behind is a calculated effort to test you or if he’s just genuinely that distracted by whatever is making him so excited. 

     Regardless, it’s too good of an opportunity to pass up, and against your better judgement you slide the item beneath the unsealed portion of the carpet beneath you.

     The steel fixtures attached to the leather bands around your wrists are heavy duty and without any manufacturer flaw but whoever had cut open the carpet to attach them to the subfloor, you assume it was Ben, never reattached the small circle of carpeting around it. You wiggle slightly to move some of your nest of pillows over the slight bulge in the floor, faking disinterest as Ben descends the stairs back into the basement. 

     There’s a manic gleam of happiness in his eyes that sends a cold shot of terror through you. Nothing good ever comes of that look. You feel yourself begin to sweat.

     A stack of clothing and what looks like a jewelry box rest in his arms as he kneels in front of you. 

     “I was going to wait to give you this but I think it would show him how special you are if you wear it when you meet him tonight.” Ben confesses, nearly vibrating in excitement.

     He hastily sets the stack of clothing down to open the jewelry box for you. A long, platinum chain studded with diamonds sparkles on cushioned, crushed black velvet. You feel sick as you spy the dainty charm dangling from the necklace, the word ‘Sweetheart’ engraved on it. 

     Ben drapes the gaudy piece of jewelry around your neck.

     “It’s perfect. Y-You’re so beautiful.” Ben stammers, misty eyed at the vision of you with his diamonds hanging like a noose around your throat.

     “Tell me you like it.” His demand is neither cruel nor kind, though you know that can change in an instant.

     “I like it.” you rasp woodenly.

     Ben’s brow furrows and a frown mars his pale face.

     “I don’t believe you. Make me believe you!” he growls, gripping your arm painfully tight.

     You want to. More than anything, you want to prostrate yourself before him and do and say whatever you need to please him. But your tongue is suddenly thick and leaden in your mouth and that tiny ember of rebellion you’ve so desperately tried to temper comes flaring to the forefront of your mind.

     By some miracle, your stubborn silence doesn’t further incite his anger and he merely throws you to the ground.

     “You’re difficult to please, but I won’t say that I don’t find it appealing in its own way. Those easy to please types are boring.” Ben chuckles, running a hand through his wavy raven hair.

     Your captor gives you a speculative look.

     “I’m going to let you shower. Behave yourself, I don’t want to have to mess up that pretty face right before you meet him.” he insists, though you know that to be a lie.

     He loves the marks he leaves on you, no matter what type of passion it is that feeds his violence. His guilt over hurting you is fleeting at best.

     You have no intention of acting up, however. The opportunity to finally bathe is too good to pass up and you’re practically tripping over yourself to appear complacent as Ben unfastens the steel O-ring attaching your leather bound wrists to the floor. He’s too busy watching you for signs of struggle to notice the irregularity in the carpet, to your fortune.

     Ben picks up the small stack of clothing and leads you across the basement into the bathroom. The marble floors are cold against your feet but you endure as your captor turns the shower on and adjusts the temperature. His hand on the small of your back is all the urging you need to halfway throw yourself into the steamy stream.

     The water, although not quite as hot as you’d prefer, feels like heaven and you let out an involuntary sigh of pleasure. You reach out and grab a bath sponge, the only one in the vast shower space and eerily in your favorite color (though you try not to dwell on that) as you squeeze shower gel on the poof. 

     It isn’t until you’re vigorously scrubbing your arms that you feel a fluctuation in the air around you and suddenly Ben’s hands are plucking your sponge from you and pulling to flush against him. You squash your urge to resist and instead stiffly allow him to move your hair aside and place open-mouthed kisses against your neck.

     “I thought your father was coming soon.” Are your only words of complaint, trying not to sour Ben’s strangely pleasant mood. 

     “He’s not my father,” Ben corrects you, sucking a bruise into your skin, “and I can make this quick.”

     And he does, guiding you over to the marble sitting area of the shower and bending you over. You brace your hands on the slick edge of the built in seat as Ben eases his thick cock inside you. The water from the shower heads is absolute shit for lubrication and you weren’t aroused in the first place.

     You remain mostly silent, biting back whimpers of pain as your captor pistons in and out of you. It blessedly doesn’t take long before he’s pulling out of you and spraying his load all over your lower back and ass. 

     If there is one thing you have to be thankful for, it’s Ben’s unwillingness to cum inside you. 

     “I’ll take care of you next time.” he promises, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

     But you don’t want him to “take care of you”. You don’t want his touch lingering on your used flesh. You don’t want there to be a next time and you most certainly do not want to enjoy it. 

     Ben finishes washing your body, making sure to run the poof and his fingertips over every plane and crevice of your body. His touch is nauseating.

     And when you think it’s over, he surprises you by revealing a disposable razor and guides you back over to the shower seat. 

     You protest when he squirts shaving gel into his hand to lather on your legs.

     “I can’t trust you with something this dangerous yet, Sweetheart.” he insists and the cold look in his eyes is enough to silence any further complaints.

     Even in something so intimate, you have no respite from his eyes and voice and hands. Your stomach churns as he kneels in front of you after shaving your legs and spreads your legs.

     “Don’t move, I don’t want to cut you here.” Ben cautions you.

     All you can do is turn your face away in shame as he spreads the petals of your sex and runs the razor over your mound, all the way down past your nether lips to your perineum. When he shaves your armpits, you are marginally less mortified.

     Once he’s satisfied, Ben pulls you back under the spray of the shower and quickly washes your hair. His hands are rough on your scalp, snagging on knots with little regard for you. You take small comfort in the fact that he’s not tugging at your strands as harshly as he does while fucking you. 

     He exits the shower first and wraps a towel around his waist before handing you one to dry yourself with. Once you’re dry, he rubs sweet smelling lotion over your body and again, your skin crawls at his somewhat gentle touch. 

     The clothes he’s picked out for you are surprisingly modest, a high-necked, knee-length dress and stockings. His choice in underthings is decidedly not. The bra is little more than boning and wispy, sheer material and the panties are mere scraps of ribbons and lace.

 

     Snoke is waiting for you when you exit the bathroom. You’d seen his image in passing on the news, especially around election season but you’d never paid too much mind. 

     He somehow looks worse in person. Bald, with a face badly disfigured by a combination of scarring and age, he looks like a comic book villain dressed in his expensive suit. 

     The smile he directs at you and Ben is ugly and devoid of warmth.

     “So this is the girl that’s stolen your attention so singularly.” Snoke acknowledges, forcing a mild tone.

     Ben nods his head before excusing himself to finish dressing upstairs.

     “I trust you two will get along.” he asserts, the warning behind his words clear.

     Still, he feels it necessary to murmur “behave” into your hair as he kisses your head in parting.

     As soon as you’re certain Ben’s out of earshot, you direct Snoke with a withering glare. 

     “You know he’s fucking insane, right?” you state, not bothering to sugar coat anything.

     Pleading hadn’t worked with Kylo, trying to play on Hux’s non-existent sympathies hadn’t either, so you’re certain empathy isn’t something you can expect from the man pulling the strings.

     “Ah, but the crazy ones are always easier to control.” Snoke chuckles.

     “Come, let’s sit down and get acquainted, these old bones aren’t accustomed to standing for so long.” it isn’t a suggestion. 

     You sit as far from Snoke as you can on the loveseat, which is regrettably still too close for comfort.

     “How long do you plan on continuing this charade?” you ask, already weary of your encounter with the governor.

     Snoke offers you the same heartless smile he’d shown to you and Ben earlier.

     “As long as it lasts. You make it exceedingly easy to control him. All he needs is the reassurance that he can do as he pleases with you and that dear old dad will take care of all the inconveniences with the law and he’s putty in my hands.” he answers as if the matter of your sexual slavery was of little consequence.

     Snoke gives you a calculating glance and places his hand on your stocking clad knee, squeezing it with an iron clad grip that was at odds with his somewhat feeble appearance.

     “You know he inherited quite the fortune when his parents died. His mother was descended from royalty and his father, regrettable man that he was, had amassed an exorbitant amount of wealth for himself as well. For simply existing, that boy has political ties that I can only hope to acquire myself, though I sometimes wonder if the price of keeping him compliant is worth it.” 

     You try to shift away from Snoke and dislodge his hand from your knee but his grip is steadfast.

     “In fact, I’ll have to do something about those friends of yours shortly. They’ve been raising chaos at the police station and have gone to the media a few times already. Perhaps an ‘accident’ is due to happen.” Snoke muses.

     Fury, hot and vengeful, floods your veins. You have never hated anyone in your life but you think this irrepressibly black rage welling within you must certainly be as close to it as you’ve ever felt if it isn’t, in fact, hatred itself. 

     Before you can reign in your emotions, you find yourself spitting in his face.

     “You’re a  _ monster _ !” you seethe, visibly quaking in anger.

     Snoke remains eerily calm, taking a handkerchief and wiping his face.

     “You aren’t much better. Don’t think I didn’t notice that suspicious bulge over there by the pillows. It’s a wonder the boy hasn’t noticed it yet.”

     You feel the blood drain from your face. How could he have had enough time to poke around and see that?

     “So do you plan to kill him? It wouldn’t be beyond the realm of understanding, with everything he’s done and, quite frankly, his erratic behavior is beginning to become quite the hindrance.” Snoke reasons.

     “W-Why would I  _ kill  _ him? He’s fucking nuts and you’ve fostered that since he was a boy. If anything, he needs serious help and  _ you  _ need to be jailed!” you growl at the governor, fingernails biting into the soft flesh of your palms. 

     The cruel grin that splits Snoke’s face is grotesque.

     “You know as well as I that he will never leave you alone. That boy’s obsession with you will leave nothing but bodies in its wake. Some dogs just can’t be trained, dear, you just have to put them down.” he whispers in your ear, his grip on your knee loosening enough for him to rub your thigh.

     Ben’s voice breaks the terrible silence between you and Snoke.

     “What’s going on here?” his voice is murderous.

     “Oh, nothing, we were just getting more acquainted. She’s a gem.” Snoke responds, not missing a beat as he pats your knee.

     His eyes are cold as he stands and regards his adopted son.

     “I’m sorry for the impromptu visit, but I really must get going. It was a pleasure.” Snoke grabs your hand and bends over to kiss it.

     You want to vomit. You don’t even pay attention as Snoke and Ben exchange farewells, too lost in your own feelings of helplessness and disgust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I get extra points for squicky Snoke? Or unsexy shower scenes?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I lied. There's one more chapter after this. But that's it, I swear!!

     Ben doesn’t give you a chance to explain the situation with Snoke once the aforementioned man leaves, opting instead to pin you to the loveseat and hastily unbutton his trousers before pressing his mouth to yours. Unlike other experiences you’ve had with him, his lips on yours are softer, persistent, as if trying to seduce a lover. Even his hands, eager as they are, are gentler in their perusal of your body.

     This… isn’t what you were expecting.

     You’re stiff, tensed in anticipation for the emergence of his innate brutality. For all the weeks you’ve been bound in his basement, the months that he’d spent stalking and harassing you, he has never been gentle and you don’t expect him to ever start. Still, you find yourself hoping if not for freedom, than at least a less violent hand. 

     His fingers easily tear the thin fabric of your stockings before he shoves your dress up over the swell of your chest. Ben doesn’t bother to tug your undergarments off as he wetly mouths your lace covered nipples. You freeze in place when you feel his teeth scrape against your hardened bud, trusting his teeth even less than his hands.

     Your fears are justified when he bites down, a strained whimper falling from your lips. Luckily, he doesn’t break skin, but you are sure to bruise. 

     You push weakly against his shoulders, unsure of what you’re trying to accomplish. Are you trying to escape the pain? Or escape the oddly charged atmosphere between Ben and yourself? Either way, fighting against him has never done you any favors and you regret trying almost as soon as you start.

     “I’m sorry, Sweetheart, I meant to be gentle. It’s just- I’m just so  _ happy  _ that you finally love me back.” he murmurs against your smarting breast, dumbfounding you with both his apology and his assessment of your own feelings.

     “Wh-What? No, I don’t!” you can’t help but refute his statement, your lips moving of their own accord in vehement denial of his statement.

     That he would suggest, after all he’d done to you, that you love him is sick.

     Ben levels you with a stony stare.

     “Don’t lie. I heard your conversation with Snoke. Did you honestly believe that I would leave what is  _ mine  _ completely unsupervised with any man?” he asks rhetorically, voice dripping with condescension.

     You know you shouldn’t be surprised by his spying on you, but it makes you wonder if he’d known about that item you’d hidden under the carpet even before your conversation with Snoke. You wonder how long he’s been watching you, wonder if he’d found you with Poe using some sort of surveillance equipment. He’d probably been watching you even before that, when you’d moved to another town in hopes of escaping him. The implications of it send an unpleasant shiver down your spine. 

     “I saw you stand up to him for me. Your passion,” he kisses beneath your ear and a jolt of revulsion runs through you, “was intoxicating. I made the right choice in you, Sweetheart.” 

     That half-crazed, desperate look is in his eyes again and, despite the potential benefits of playing along, you refuse to even entertain the idea of feeling anything other than loathing and a grudging pity for the twisted man on top of you.

     “You’re wrong.” you assert, voice steely in your conviction.

     You ignore the way Ben’s whole body stiffens at your words, muscles coiling as if poised to attack.

     “You’ve stalked me, beaten me, raped me and kept me locked in your  _ basement… You’ve hurt the people most precious to me. _ You’re insane if you think for one second that I could ever love an unforgivable  _ monster  _ like you!” you hiss, your hatred for the man that has so effectively ruined your life bubbling to the surface.

     You can’t say you’re surprised by the fist that connects with your face but you aren’t entirely expecting it either. The blow leaves you dazed as Ben repositions you, your ass in the air while his massive hand grips the back of your neck to smother your face against the loveseat. 

     “You want to see a monster, you little bitch? I’ll show you a monster.” he growls, spitting in his hand to lube up his dick.

     You struggle against him, fighting to breathe. His cock, covered in slimy saliva, presses into you without mercy. Your vagina is still sore from his under-lubricated invasion of you earlier and tears well in your eyes as you are violently pried open again. 

     The friction from the dryness of your channel must be painful, because you hear Ben’s grunt through the suffocatingly plush cushions of the loveseat. He spits, you know because you can feel the thick, viscous glob land on your perineum and slide down to provide more lubrication for his assault on your body. It’s revolting,  _ he’s _ revolting, and you cry brokenly as you start to lose the battle to provide your brain with enough oxygen. 

     Your vision is fading but you distinctly hear Ben roar:

     “You think I’m such a fucking monster…! I’ll fill your cunt up with all the little monsters you’ve never wanted and make you birth them one after the other until you fucking die, you heartless bitch!” 

     At his words, mindless, soul-searing terror razes through you and you fight uselessly with the last of your breath, heavy limbs feebly trying to scramble away from him. You hear his voice catch and break while he screams obscenities at you, sobbing as he ploughs into your defenseless body. 

     His overly thick cock throbs inside you and your world goes black.

* * *

 

     When you come to, it’s with a start, panic making you flail helplessly while you attempt to make sense of your surroundings. 

     You’re lying on a large white bed, in a room you’ve never seen, dozens of monitors hanging from the walls. Most seem to be live feeds from all over: indoor areas, city streets, storefronts, even old warehouses. The other screens…

     A shiver runs through you as you stare at video footage of yourself going about your daily life.  _ Your old life _ , the life that Ben had stolen from you. There’s footage of you eating an entire pizza by yourself while watching Netflix, you sitting at your computer writing trashy sci-fi fanfiction about problematic characters, you dancing horribly and singing into a hairbrush… You old life looks incredibly solitary, if not lonely, and tears well in your eyes because lonely or not, you would do anything to have it back.

     The tears fall freely and a choked gasp of horror escapes you when you spy surveillance footage of that night in the hospital parking lot. You’re not sure how Ben managed to get it but you can hardly think, hardly breathe, as you watch him beat Poe anew. You see yourself latch on to Ben as he goes berserk over Poe, kicking him savagely before throwing you off of him as if you were little more than a fly to be swatted away. You see your body crumble uselessly when you pass out and leave Poe to take the brunt of Ben’s rage. 

     ‘So worthless.’ you think with no small amount of self-loathing.

     Ben only stops his assault of Poe when he stops moving and goes eerily still. You see Ben begin to approach your unconscious body and turn away. You know what happens after that. 

     Your eyes hone in on another video of you masturbating in your bedroom at Maz’s apartment complex. You’re somewhat numb to the discovery, you’d been expecting it from the moment you’d woken up to the monitors. 

     What you aren’t expecting, is an entire wall of monitors depicting every time Ben had ever raped you. Every time he had ever grabbed you by the hair and made you choke on his cock, every time he had hurt you to make you submit to his claiming of your body, every time you laid there in defeat and took it, is laid bare before you. You feel sick and twist away from the endless cycle of pain and abuse your life has become. 

     Something slick and sticky squishes against your inner thighs as you move and you can’t control the bile that rises in your throat, remembering Ben’s rant from earlier. Thankfully, there’s a waste bin beside the bed and you promptly empty the contents of your stomach inside it. Your body heaves until your belly cramps painfully in protest.

     The door to the bedroom opens and Ben walks in with a plastic bag. You curl into a ball and scoot up against the wall at the head of the bed as your captor sits beside you.

     “I got a little out of hand earlier.” Ben admits softly.

     You eye him warily as he pulls a slim white box from the bag and sets it beside you. You’re beyond shocked when you realize that he’s brought you Plan B.

     “I… I won’t share you with anyone or anything.” he vows when you don’t respond, his eyes earnest as they stare at you.

     You blink rapidly, trying to cope with the awful feeling of gratitude you have for him for not making you carry his child. You should be angry at him for putting you in this position in the first place, not feeling  _ grateful  _ that he’d changed his mind because he wants to be selfish with you.

     You tear open the box, refusing to thank him as you swallow down the pill without water. There’s a bitter aftertaste but it’s far less bitter than the knowledge that he’d almost impregnated you out of spite and hurt feelings. 

     “Snoke really will kill your  _ friends _ .” he says after a beat, spitting out the word ‘friends’ in distaste.

     “Why are you telling me this?” you ask suspiciously, expression guarded.

     Ben smiles that would-be beautiful grin at you, running a hand through his raven locks.

     “Because I want to make a deal with you.” he replies simply.

     You arch an eyebrow, a snarky retort on the tip of your tongue before you think better of it. He’d just almost smothered you to death and forcefully knocked you up, antagonizing him was likely not a good idea.

     Your captor leans over to whisper in your ear, the smell of clean clothes and the autumn air from outside cling to him.

  
     “I can bring to light all of his dirty laundry. I’ve recorded his conversations for the past 10 years and have encrypted video evidence of his dirty dealings. The FBI would be knocking on his door so quickly, he wouldn’t have time to consider getting rid of those minor nuisances.”

     “Why would you do this for me?”

     ‘What do you hope to gain from this?’ is the question you don’t dare ask, knowing he’ll lay down his conditions soon enough.

     “Because I love you.” he replies, brushing his thumb across your bruised cheek. 

     You flinch at the contact and Ben narrows his eyes in displeasure. 

     “But first you’ll need to stop that.” he intones almost briskly.

     You stare at him wide-eyed and prepare for his list of stipulations for saving Poe’s and Finn’s lives. 

     “You will be complacent and obey everything I ask of you, it’s the least you can do for me after all I have and will continue to do for you.” He says, staring intensely into your eyes.

     You know that this means you will have to pretend to be willing and even be complicit in his abuse of your body. You know that this means that you will likely never see or speak to Poe or Finn again. You know that by agreeing to this you will sign away your (fictitious) freedom to rot in this house as little more than a pleasure slave for the rest of your life.

     And yet, it’s no different from what you were being groomed for anyways. However, you have the opportunity to save the lives of your loved ones that had unknowingly been dragged into something much bigger than they could ever fight against. 

     You meet Ben’s dark gaze with your own and nod your head.

     “Lastly, understand that my actions will have consequences. Snoke will know where the evidence came from and respond accordingly. Do not expect to survive.” Ben warns.

     Suddenly this deal makes sense. Snoke is already planning on getting rid of Ben. What better way to go out with a fight than by ruining everything the creepy fuck had worked his whole life to build? That Ben could also win your grudging compliance is just an added bonus.

     Still, the knowledge that you won’t live long enough to experience the lasting trauma of your stalker’s attentions comforts you almost as much as knowing that Finn and Poe will survive the unfortunate melodrama that your life has become.

     “Okay, I’ll do it.” you agree after a moment.   
     “Say my name.” Ben demands and you fight to stifle the flare of irritation at that.

     “Okay, I’ll do it, Ben.” you correct yourself, voice calmer than you feel.

     He grins, pressing his still smiling lips against yours and you kiss him back woodenly. Your raven haired rapist deepens the kiss, savoring the way you return his attentions for the first time. His hands slide up your arms, briefly circling your neck before sliding down your chest and settling on your hips. 

     “Why don’t we seal this deal with a little more than a kiss, Sweetheart?” he asks in a husky tone that would have gone straight to your cunt if you didn’t fear and loathe him so much. 

     It’s a rhetorical question, sex is going to happen whether you want it to or not. However, Finn’s and Poe’s lives rely on how well you respond to the question, how well you respond to  _ him _ .

     “Of course, whatever you want, Ben.” you reply, despising him and yourself in equal measure for this farce of an agreement.

     “Good girl…” he purrs against your neck pulling your hips closer to him to make you lay fully on the bed. 

     Ben covers your body with his, settling himself between your legs and grinding his burgeoning erection against your bare mound. 

     You nearly fail to withhold a shudder of revulsion, gripping the sheets beneath you in a vice like grip.

     “Wrap your arms around me and kiss me.” Ben demands as he strips out of his shirt and jeans.

     You obey, pressing your bare chest against his and reluctantly running your tongue along the seam of his lips. He makes a startled noise before smiling against your mouth, pleased with your initiative. 

     His touch is bolder now, lifting you by your hips to lower you on his cock. The remnants of his cum eases his intrusion, though you still feel an unavoidable burn as he stretches you to capacity. 

     He moves slowly, and you hate the way his cockhead rubs against your front wall and makes you feel something other than disgust.

     “Ride me, Sweetheart.” he says, breathless at the sensation of the tight sleeve of your cunt clenching around him. 

     You oblige him, placing your hands back on his thighs to steady yourself as you undulate your hips atop him. Ben groans loudly, praising you, and it makes your skin crawl. 

     You think for a moment that he will be gentler with you if you are amenable to his demands.

     As if to prove you wrong, his hand slithers up your body, squeezing your breasts before tightening alarmingly around your neck. Ben thrusts his hips up violently to meet you thrust for thrust, hammering against your cervix. You bite your lip, drawing blood, in your efforts withhold your cries.

     “As much… fun… as this is, there’s something I’ve been dying to do, if you’re willing.” he grunts, never slowing the pace he’s set for you.

     You know you have no choice in it, he’s just enjoying his newfound power over you, and so you nod as best you can with him choking you. The part of you that is not terrified by the unknown factor of what he’s planning to do to you is almost relieved to be able to rest your burning thighs. 

     “Good girl.” he praises you, releasing your neck to grip and still your hips.

     He pushes you off his lap, his cock sliding free with a ‘pop’. Your body is arranged on your hands and knees, a favorite position of his you’ve noticed, and you feel a saliva coated finger prod the tight ring of muscle of your anus. Every muscle in your body tenses as he struggles to slide a thick finger inside you.

     “I’m going to fuck this cute ass of yours and you’re going to thank me for it.” he taunts. 

     He spits on your puckered opening, working another finger inside you and you can’t control the whimper that wheezes past your lips. 

     “You’re gonna have to relax for me, Sweetheart.” Ben murmurs, pressing a kiss to your bare ass cheek. 

     ‘I know that!’ you nearly snap, but think better of it, taking deep breaths as you will your muscles to relax. 

     You feel the saliva slickened head of his cock on your underprepared rear. Ben’s hands grip your hips as he forces his way inside you.

     “Tell me you love me.  _ Now _ .” he growls, fingers tightening painfully on your hips as he finally bottoms out in your ass.

     “I… love you.” you sob, not bothering to hide your tears or the shaking of your body as the man above you violates you to the depths of your soul.

     He is a monster. A beautiful, horrible monster that takes pleasure in his corruption of you. You bury your head in the bed to muffle your cries as he sodomizes you.

     And true to his earlier taunt,  _ you thank him for it _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kylo is still a horrible person. Just because Snoke is worse, doesn't make our favorite stalker any better.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally the end!! YAY!! I hope I don't disappoint too terribly with this. It took me a while to complete. I want to apologize in advance for any trauma I inflict, if any.

     You’re hollow. The bits and pieces left of what was _you_ before Ben have been scraped from the empty chasm of your chest. With each forced ‘I love you’ and each new sexual humiliation, another piece of your identity chips away until you're left with little more than a shallow imitation of the original.

     Cold cum dries against your stomach and chest, a tacky, gloppy puddle of it having gathered in your bellybutton. You want nothing more than to wipe it off, to erase any trace of your abuser from your body, but you haven’t been given permission to move yet.

     The sound of the shower running in the adjacent room reminds you that you’re lying there of your own volition. There are no leather restraints tying you to the bed, no handcuffs or intricately knotted ropes, just the looming threat of the death of your...friends.

     You aren’t sure if you can call Finn and Poe friends, especially Poe. When you’d been taken, you were on the brink of something so much _more_. You find yourself longing for a chance to explore your feelings… but for the moment, the only thing you should think about is making Ben happy enough to keep them safe.

     The sound of the shower cutting off causes you to flinch. You stare up at the ceiling, watching the play of light and shadow from the monitors on the walls as you wait for Ben to toy with you some more. You’re so focused on the spackle on the painted white ceiling that you almost don’t register his entrance, turning at the last moment to catch sight of him towelling his raven hair in the doorway. He’s completely bare, his pale, beauty-marked skin glistening and pulled taut over carefully crafted muscles. If he weren’t such an irredeemable monster, you would be awestruck by his beauty.

     Instead, you watch blankly as his eyes linger over the glimmer of his essence collected in your navel. His flaccid cock twitches in interest but rather than slake his lust with your body, he throws his used towel on your naked form.  
“Clean up, there’s something I want to do before tonight,”

     You move woodenly to the ensuite bathroom, shrinking away from Ben as you pass by. He huffs in amusement but does little else, not allowing himself to get distracted from whatever _thing_ he’s decided to involve you in this time.

* * *

 

     Ben pulls into the parking lot of a courthouse. It’s infuriating to be so close to something that represents the broken system that has trapped you with your abuser. The luxury vehicle you sit in further taunts you, the new car smell making you nauseous. Money and power are king here and you are just a lowly pawn, thrown into the tides of something much bigger than yourself.

     You follow meekly behind the broad shouldered form of Ben, passing through the metal detectors and into a courtroom. A tall, blonde woman stands down the aisle, dressed in a smart navy pantsuit talking in hushed tones with two men in all black. Other than the color of their clothing, the men are so nondescript that you wouldn’t be able to identify them in a lineup at a later date if you were asked to. Noticing your arrival, the three stop their discussion and the blonde approaches Ben and you.

     “I take it Mr. Snoke is unaware of what’s about to transpire?” she directs at your abuser, not bothering with any pleasantries.

     “At the moment,” Ben admits, tone stiff, “though I doubt it’ll take long for you to let it slip.”  
     The woman shrugs, a wry smile on her blood red lips as she neither confirms nor denies his accusation.   
     “It’s not like I’ll go out of my way to say something, but in the interest of -well- _my interests_ , I won’t keep it a secret either. At best, you’ve got two days before it comes up, Solo.”

     Ben seems to relax somewhat at her words, reaching out to grab your hand absent-mindedly. You try not to flinch.

     “Ah, where are my manners? Judge Gwendoline Phasma, at your service.” the blonde, Phasma, greets you finally, a smile on her face that doesn’t quite meet her deadened cornflower blue eyes.

     You tip your head slightly at her in acknowledgement but refuse to take her proffered hand. You may be forced to follow through in this farce but you won’t lower yourself to being friendly with Ben and Snoke’s network of shady, white collar criminals.

     “O-kay, let’s get this over with then.” she pulls her hand away primly before turning and heading to take her place in front of the judge’s stand.

     Your nuptials are blessedly short, though the extravagant ring Ben slides on your finger (you idly wonder when he’d made time to get it between scheming and raping you) feels more like a shackle than the symbol of mutual love and devotion it’s meant to represent. Your skin crawls when Ben leans in to kiss you and ‘seal the deal’, so to speak.

     It feels as though you’re signing away your soul as you scrawl your signature across your marriage certificate and Phasma’s notary stamp resounds in the empty chambers of your heart. You pause at the desk when Ben stands to leave and tug the sleeve of his blazer.

     “There’s something I’d like to do… before we leave, if it isn’t too much trouble.” you shrink beneath the irate look on Ben’s face but remain determined.   
     You explain what you want to do and the sly, proud smile that slides across his face fills you with shame. You wonder when you’d begun to _think_ like him, looking for angles to work and ways to further manipulate a situation to your benefit.

     Even Judge Phasma seems somewhat impressed by your forethought, a spark of interest igniting in those glacial eyes of hers.

     It takes a little less than an hour and as Ben finishes up with Phasma, you catch sight of a newspaper one of the unremarkable men that had served as a witness had left in his chair. A picture on the front page catches your attention and you snatch up the paper as you pass the chair to leave, taking advantage of Ben’s distraction with the judge to slip the paper into the waistband of your cream colored skirt and under the hideous pink silk blouse Ben had you wear for your farce of a wedding. You are grateful when Phasma doesn’t bid you farewell or congratulate you on your marriage.

     Ben grips your hand once the both of you get back to his car and smiles crookedly at you.   
     “You did well today, maybe I’ll take you out again sometime.”

     His words are hollow promises. You both know that you will be lucky to live to the next morning.  
     The ride back to your prison is quiet. Ben’s hand is wrapped around yours the entire way, his thumb rubbing possessively over your wedding ring every now and then.   
     Ben’s cell phone goes off once you get back to the house, affording you the opportunity to slip your stolen newspaper beneath the mattress on your side of the bed. You stand right as Ben enters the bedroom, making a great show of removing your strappy heels.

     A chill skitters down your spine at the feral hunger in your new husband’s gaze as he looks at you. He walks across the room towards you, shrugging out of his blazer and unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt before pulling it and his undershirt over his head. His gait is absolutely predatory and you find yourself unconsciously backing up against the bed, your hands clasped protectively in front of your chest.

     He grins at your reaction, further encouraged by your trepidation. Two more long strides and he’s upon you, tearing your clothes from your body and sucking dark marks into your neck as he pins you beneath him on the bed.

     You don’t bother struggling, resigned to let the raven-haired man have his way, though you think he might enjoy a bit of struggle instead of your limp, lifeless limbs and the vacant look in your eyes.  

     “Hey, I’ll make it good for you this time. Promise.” the closest thing to sincerity you’ve ever seen shines in his golden brown eyes and his hands on your body now feel almost like an apology.

     It may be the only one you ever get.

     Ben’s lips, tongue, teeth, are gentle as they travel down the dips and slopes of your body, slowly building an unwanted anticipation within you. His hands softly knead and rub your flesh and a few wayward tears trickle from your eyes.

     His touch like this reminds you of Poe.

     An awful longing fills you, breaking you all over again, despite your previous assumptions that you had been shattered beyond any further harm. The tears come faster now, silent sobs shaking your trembling frame.

     Ben’s face pulls away from it’s journey to your cunt, hovering over your own as his hands move up to your shoulders, attempting to rub soothing circles with his thumbs.

     You see Poe’s face through your blurry eyes. That sweet, soulful look in his eyes, gazing down at you as though you are something precious to be loved and protected, and not the used, bitter lump of flesh you’ve become.

     A whimper spills from your lips.

     “Shh, Shh…” Poe’s voice echoes Ben’s.

_“I’m happy, too. Let me show you.”_

     Poe’s tender, smiling face morphs into the more angular visage of your husband.

     Ben kisses you, plush lips soft and lightly working against yours. You imagine it’s Poe and kiss Ben back with all of the regret and unexplored love you never got to express. Your fingers weave into the thick, black curls of his hair and the texture is similar enough that you can imagine it’s Poe you’re holding and not your rapist.

     Heady lust blooms in your chest and tingles spread throughout your body. For the first time, your body welcomes the intrusion that is Ben as you lose yourself in the fantasy of something you can never have. Ben’s hips rock into you, undulating in slow, sensual rolls that make your toes curl and remind you of the sweetness of your single night as Poe’s.

     When it’s over you roll onto your side, unable to face yourself, let alone the man whose body you’d used just as much as he’d used yours. You fall into a fitful sleep, thinking about the picture you’d briefly glimpsed on the newspaper safely tucked beneath the mattress.

* * *

 

 

     The room is dark when you awake, save for the glow of the wall monitors and Ben’s computer. You prop yourself up and spy Ben upholding his part of your agreement and uploading all of Snoke’s dirty laundry to several public servers. A sigh escapes you and whether it is one of relief or resignation is a mystery to you. At least Finn and Poe are safe now.

     Ben’s headphones are on and you can hear the muted sound of music he’s listening to as he works at his computer and you do your best to quietly slip the paper from beneath you. You pull your knees up, using your thighs to both prop the newspaper up and hide it from immediate view should Ben turn to look at you.

     Your heart stutters in your chest as you read the headline: ‘Couple Killed in Freak Accident: Foul Play Suspected’. There’s an old picture of Finn and Poe, one you’d taken years ago at your favorite pub. Poe’s arm is wrapped around Finn’s shoulders and wide, dimpled smiles are plastered to their faces. You read the article, strangely numb save for the churning of your guts. The article ends with the scheduled date of their funeral… today. The beginnings of rage bubble beneath your skin and you check the date of the paper. It’s an issue from the week prior, the same day you’d bartered your body and obedience to _save_ their lives.

     You are filled with righteous fury. It is no coincidence that your forced nuptials were planned for the day of their funeral or that Ben’s bargain had been offered to you on the day of their deaths. This had been a carefully executed plot of your rapist-turned-husband and you had been unknowingly compliant through it all.

     You know in the back of your mind that it is no coincidence, either, that you happened upon that paper but you’re momentarily blinded by a black, violent thirst for vengeance.

     Before you can properly think about your actions, you grab the heavy ceramic lamp from the nightstand beside the bed, ripping the cord from the wall as you rush at your abuser. Ben turns at the noise and you shatter the lamp over his head before he can react, knocking him to the ground. You are on his dazed form in an instant, a large shard of the lamp cutting into the flesh of your hand as you lodge it into Ben’s eye. Blood spurts out and splatters over your naked body as you straddle his torso, driving the makeshift shiv into his eye socket until it breaks. He hardly makes any noise as he dies.

     You barely notice his passing, lost as you are in your passion. You gouge long lines into his face, breaking your own nails as you ruin the face of the man that has taken _everything_ from you. You dig your thumb into his undamaged eye and even more blood coats you, hot against your cheek.

     An inhuman shriek rips itself from your chest and you collapse on top of Ben’s unmoving body, sobs wracking your body.

* * *

 

     Your tears eventually dry out and you’re left with nothing but a hollow, cold sense of knowing. Snoke is coming. You must be ready.

* * *

 

     Snoke makes an entrance, as expected. You can hear his men ransacking the house and the scent of gasoline soon fills the air. A man bursts into the bedroom, one of the ones that had been at the courthouse that afternoon. He must have not been as unremarkable as you had thought, you muse in detached amusement.

     His eyes are wide in terror as he looks at you.

     “Th-They’re in here, Boss!” he shouts, his voice cracking as he finds himself unable to look away from you.

     You know how fearsome you must look now: curled over the eyeless corpse of his boss’s adopted son, naked and dead-eyed and covered in congealing blood.

     Snoke hobbles in, eyes widening a fraction as he takes in the scene.  
     “Well that’s one way to do it, although I would have liked to do it myself,” he drawls, his grotesque face curling into a horrible imitation of a smile.

     You shrug, not taking your eyes off of him.

     “Don’t act as though you hadn’t wanted this to happen. What better way to hurt your failed successor than to have the only person he cares for murder him?” you reply coolly.

     Snoke’s ugly grin widens.

     “Smart girl, I could have made further use of you,” he muses.

     You smile at him, genuine amusement flashing in your eyes. You will enjoy these last moments of your miserable life.

     “I’m sure you could have, but you’re never going to get the opportunity to use anyone ever again,” you boast.

     The smug look on Snoke’s face falters.

     “Awful bold words from a little girl about to die,” he bites out.

     You laugh at him, voice high and perhaps just a bit crazy sounding.

     “That fortune you’re expecting to inherit from Ben to get you out of this nasty predicament? You’re never going to get it. You were written out of _our_ will today,” you smile manically at him.

     “The money’s going to charity. And the judge that notarized it? She’ll roll over on you in a second. Your son graciously decided to not air any of her dirty laundry so long as she makes sure that you don’t touch a penny of his money.”

     “You little bitch!” Snoke’s face is contorted even further in fury, his pasty skin mottled with purple and red.

     You pull the knife you’d been hiding at your side out. You and you alone were going to decide the terms of your death.

     You grin broadly as Snoke struggles to find his bearings as with a few short words, you reveal how thoroughly you and Ben have stripped him of everything he’s worked his entire wretched life for.

     “Eat a dick, old man,” you quip before slitting your own throat and bleeding out on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me through this!!

**Author's Note:**

> For those that may be concerned, I'm not aiming to romanticize rape or rape culture. As a victim of sexual abuse myself, I hope that this work does not trivialize the effects of it. Although I am also aware that rape fantasies are a thing. I hope to toe the line between the two without offending too many people! My goal is to update on a weekly basis, maybe more if I'm feeling particularly ambitious. Thank you for reading! I hope you found this interesting or enjoyable!
> 
>  
> 
> Big thank you to fuckingkyloren for encouraging me to write this (even if it's turning out a little darker than I intended)!


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